


Mirror, Mirror, In My Hand

by GuiltyRed



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, General, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we ponder cause and effect where magical items are concerned; motives are just too complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror, In My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Mirror, Mirror, In My Hand  
> **Author:** GuiltyRed**  
> Rating:** R  
> **Warnings:** voyeurism, pwnage, and pimping  
> **Word count:** 873  
> **Summary:** In which we ponder cause and effect where magical items are concerned; motives are just too complicated.  
> **Prompt:** Draco/Luna: the Malfoy basement dungeons – "where are the whips and chains?"  
> **A/N:** Moral of the story: be wary of accepting sex toys from strange witches, especially if they (the witches) seem more like fangirls than is absolutely seemly.

**A/N:** Moral of the story: be wary of accepting sex toys from strange witches, especially if they (the witches) seem more like fangirls than is absolutely seemly.

Draco hauled the heavy basement door shut, then set the sentinal latch in place. Should anyone try to open the door from the other side, the gremlin in the mechanism would howl bloody murder and alert Draco to the intrusion in time to escape.

The reason for this precaution drifted dreamily down the stairs ahead of him, counting steps. "Oh! Thirty-nine is a lucky number, it's three thirteens all together!"

Draco hurried after his guest and wondered not for the first time what had possessed him to bring her here, of all people.

Oh, that's right: she'd bribed him.

"Luna, wait! You can't just rush into the basement, there are –" He'd been about to say "security devices", but seeing as Luna was currently rubbing the belly of an immense scaled panther, decided his warning was a bit unnecessary.

"You do have an amazing dungeon, Draco," Luna observed, "though I'm a little confused…"

_That's the understatement of the century,_ Draco thought to himself. He cleared his throat, hid his smirk behind an immaculately manicured hand, and asked, "About what, exactly?"

Luna stood, much to the disappointment of the guard-beast, and looked around, her brow furrowed. "From everything I'd heard about your family…your father's notoriety…your mother's family history…your own disciplinary record at school…"

"Bloody hell, what are you doing snooping around like that? Just because your father runs a rag-mag doesn't make you a star reporter!" He recalled that odd little boy with the camera glued to his hand and shuddered. "And I didn't think paparazzi were encouraged at Hogwarts."

Luna laughed brightly and danced around in a little circle, arms spread as if to embrace the world. "If everyone knew how shy you really are, you'd have better friends," she cooed. "Your family is sort of famous, you know. And the naughty parts are really fun to read about."

Draco rubbed at his temples and cursed the hour he'd agreed to bring this idiot into his home, no matter how tempting the payment. _Speaking of which…_ "You did bring it, didn't you? I'd hate to think we were stuck here for no reason."

"Of course!" She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small leather band. "Here!"

Draco scowled at the item. "This is the Fabled Ring of the Cockatrice? Looks a bit…floppy."

Luna burst out laughing. "I didn't say _cockatrice _– those things are dangerous, you know. I said cock-a-_trick_. You put it on your boy-parts to make them happy."

"…what?"

Luna didn't seem to notice his stunned reaction, or else she merely mistook it for shy gratitude. Instead, she looked around again and said, "It just doesn't make sense, though…"

"…er, what?" Draco found himself staring at the leather band on her palm, a part of his mind keenly curious in spite of his better judgment. He was rather fond of making his boy-parts happy…

"This is the famous Malfoy Dungeon, isn't it? Well, where are the whips and chains? The stocks? Ball-gags? I don't even see any paddles…"

Draco licked his lips and tried to ignore the trickle of cold sweat down his back. "Um, Luna? What are you talking about?"

Luna sighed as though bracing herself to explain a tediously easy lesson to a baffled first-year. "You do know what S&amp;M stands for, don't you?"

Draco blushed a high shade of crimson and blurted, "I didn't think _you'd_ know!"

"It's an honorable practice, giving joy to witches and wizards for centuries," Luna stated blandly. "I feel honored to know two descendants of the bold men who first designed the practical dungeon – Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy!"

Draco stared, his face going nearly as pale as his hair now. "You – think – you think – that I'm – that _Snape_ – that we're –"

Luna nodded and said in an encouraging tone, "That you're from the 'S' and the 'M' clans, which means you're sort of historically relevant." Leaning closer, she whispered, "I hope you like the ring. Are you going to try it on now?"

"Now? _Here?_ In front of _you?_ I don't bloody think so!"

Not one to recognize defeat, Luna smiled a serene sort of smile and nodded. "I knew you were shy."

Draco grabbed hold of her wrist and took off for the stairs, bounding up the one-shy-two-score steps in record time. He unfastened the sentinal latch, hauled the door open, and escorted Luna to the front door in silence. Before he shoved her out, he muttered, "A deal's a deal," and snatched the cockatrick ring from her hand.

Luna tottered on the front porch a moment, then neatened her clothes and skipped off down the lane.

"Gee, Luna, where did you get all this money?"

Luna bit her lip and smiled around her teeth. She looked around to make sure no one else was watching, then pulled a scrying mirror from her bag. "Two knuts a minute," she whispered. "Mr. M usually goes for about eight, unless he's got a dirty magazine."

The second-year put up ten.

Luna raised the mirror to her mouth and kissed it, not the way one might kiss someone's lips but something distinctly more…_deliberate_. She moaned softly as her tongue pressed the glass. As the fog from her breath cleared, she whispered, "Showtime."


End file.
